


don’t tell me that we’ve grown for having loved a little while

by bluebellbygones



Category: Wizard101
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Comfort doesn’t show up for a while, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Fantasy Violence, Physical hurt, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Divorce, also a guy gets his heart torn out of his chest but hes fine, the magic system is depicted more loosely here as compared to wiz’s battle circle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27389227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebellbygones/pseuds/bluebellbygones
Summary: The breaking and mending of: worlds, trust, children, and the relationship between divinities.Or- the events of ‘The Divorce’ and onward, from the perspectives of Raven and Spider.
Relationships: Grandfather Spider/ Grandmother Raven, the terrible two & all their varying degrees of terrible children
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. Nothing lasts forever/ Some things aren't meant to be

**Author's Note:**

> this story and all of its chapters get their name from the song ‘Hello My Old Heart’ by the Oh Hellos, which suits arc 3 so well imo.  
> song is here: https://youtu.be/AObC5VKMdEc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of ‘The Divorce’.

If someone asked Lady Nightstar, Grandmother of Ravens, Carrier of Light, God of Order, etc, how she had come to love someone so completely opposite of herself, she’d be unable to answer because she couldn’t exactly discern when in time they’d actually created an affection for one another, or even why.

In the beginning, after the Creator had left, she and her brother had carried on their work by creating and cultivating new life made for the world they now inhabited themselves. In that creation, while merging their magic, they felt a different presence; something that was darker, more energized, more volatile and unpredictable than any magic of their own. And yet it seemed to have no real consequences on their creations, other than not being as predictable as Raven might have liked them. Bartelby dismissed it, saying that it was alright to have a little bit of the unknown in things, but Raven grew more and more curious, namely to the source of this magic. There was no way to discern whether the force behind it, should there be one, was friend or foe without any questioning or investigation. Eventually she gathered the courage to go out and find it.

She had found… something unexpected. She’d expected to find something that matched the magic itself, something dark, energetic, chaotic, volatile; something formless and jumbled. Instead she found a creature, one she was unfamiliar with, using their eight spindly appendages as a loom and the strange magic as a thread. They were incredibly methodical about their process, looping and weaving to make a lattice that spread out and around them. They even allowed Raven to watch them from her position, of which she had assumed would provoke confrontation, for a very long time. However, Raven wasn’t entirely sure if they noticed her presence or not; she could have sworn a few of the eight eyes that dotted their head had looked her way, but as there was no other sign of acknowledgement, she was unsure.

Eventually the person put their work down with a small, satisfied huff, and looked at her proper. “Thank you for waiting.” they said; their voice was deep, dark, roiling with a multitude of things Raven could not place. Like a tremor of an earthquake, followed by the whisper of debris falling in the aftermath. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She rapidly learned many things about this individual. She learned he was a creature called a ‘spider’, had a given name of ‘Old Cob’, and bore not even a speck of Light within him. He called his magic, his own self, a ‘Shadow’ of the world and everything within it. She learned he was born the instant she’d been into this world; more than likely to be a result of her birth than some other coincidence. But by no means did that make them related. In fact, she thought they couldn’t have been more different. This difference became a source of contention in later years; he was a being of chaos and destruction, though he was surprisingly philosophical about the whole process, and often opted to fight her with words instead of his dark magic. His destruction always came with a reason, but it was when Raven disagreed with those reasons that fighting broke out. They were evenly matched, and battles could last for a long time before one of them fell. Most times it just became tiresome to continue and they would both give up. But they could never bring themselves to kill, to create a permanent solution to the conflict. And so it continued to be that way for a very long time. He’d destroy something, she’d have to fix it or create something to replace it. It was a cycle that lasted millennia, to the point where it became routine. And then, somewhere along the way, they somehow learned this difference also drew them to each other. Both gods were fascinated by their counterpart’s mindset, despite not being able to understand it, and each encounter brought them into wanting to know even more. Before long, they were meeting of their own accord, only to converse. They grew even closer, to the point where Cob’s destruction was incredibly contained and Raven’s intervention was no longer needed in most cases.

Raven had no idea exactly what point she’d come to love him, but she did. She wasn’t even sure why. There were qualities that she did love of course and she enjoyed being around him; she wouldn’t have been so drawn otherwise. But she didn’t have any sort of clear cut reasoning as to why she felt as such in the first place. Even out of memory the reasons were so vague, yet they were strong all the same.

They saw the creation of beings much like themselves; not near as powerful, but capable of speech and intelligent thought. They sought to create beings like that of their own volition. When they proved incompatible during their attempts, they went to Bartelby, offering up parts of themselves, and asking for the children they so desired. He did so gladly, creating beings of both Light and Shadow, more powerful than the both of them, and just a step below Bartelby himself. They were dubbed the Titans; beings of the roiling seas, blustery skies, and heat of the earth. Incredibly powerful, incredibly disobedient, but cherished nonetheless by their parents. Raven had grown accustomed to dealing with mishaps by way of their father, so handling the children was just business as usual. Despite all this, things were peaceful, quiet, warm. Raven tried to unify their children under one cause, to get them to be more constructive, with high hopes they could become a force for good.

Spider, no matter how much she cared about him, no matter how much he claimed he loved her, appeared to have other ideas.

As she stared out at the sight of their children fighting, killing each other, rending the land and sky asunder in their outrage, with frosty air and crackling clouds and embers dancing about the horizon, she wondered. She wondered, if someone were to ask her how she’d come to love the person ultimately responsible for the end of the world, how she would answer.

—

If one asked Old Cob, Grandfather of Spiders, Weaver of Shadows, God of Chaos, etc, if he had intended for his children to destroy the world on which he stood- going so far as to rend land and sky asunder, to petrify the trees of the grove that surrounded Bartelby, to make the universe scream and weep in horror- he would answer “no”.

He hadn’t foreseen that things would go this far, or this quickly. Yet there he was, watching aghast as the world crumbled to pieces, the sky a mottle of colors roiling violently, now not just above him but beneath as well.

Bartelby sung all the Titans to sleep, a sleep likely to last forever if undisturbed, and there was relief; it could be fixed, Cob thought. He and Nightstar could probably not restore the world to its former state, but something new could be made, and they could try again. In fact, he had already come up with an idea for a supporting structure. The thoughts of such drastic change made him almost excited to start again, though he knew for a fact Raven would not feel the same way. He’d have to tamp it down when he spoke to her.

These hopeful thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Nightstar behind him; Cob turned to face her, about to pitch his idea, before he saw a look of cold fury on her face.

“What have you done.” Nightstar’s voice was chilling, dark, and dangerously quiet, like the stillness before a tsunami. It took him aback; was she accusing him? But she had to know this wasn’t his intent. She had to.

“Nightstar, it’s alright.” he tried. “It can be-“

“This is what you’d call alright!?” Nightstar snapped, wings spanned out in full in incredulous fury, framing the broken land behind her. “This!? Our children have devastated everything we ever created, yet you’d brush off this catastrophe without care?!”

He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off with a harsh exhale. “Who am I kidding. It was inevitable, wasn’t it. It wouldn’t be enough for you one day, and I was foolish enough to let you manipulate your own- our own- blood into doing your bidding.”

He bristled at this, but he forced himself calm, just enough to say his piece. “Nightstar, I understand- I know that we’ve lost so much... I- I was as devastated as you when it... but we could rebuild what we’ve lost. We could make it even better than the Creator did. I’m more than willing to assist- I could use Shadow to-“

Nightstar had a look of horror on her face, which morphed quickly to outrage. “So that was your aim?”

“My aim? What-“

“You cannot manipulate me as you did the Titans.” Raven bit out, rising to tower above him, the marks on her face glowed red in fury. “I will not allow you any more room for your chaos!”

Spider’s mind spun, reeling from Nightstar’s- from Raven’s- misunderstanding of his words, and he only managed a feeble defense in the face of her wrath, ripping through him, flesh, mind and soul before blowing his body off the edge and into the sky below. He fell for quite a long time, barely registering the whirl of color before making contact with solid ground with a harsh thud. He struggled to right himself but was pushed down by the familiar grasp of sharp talons around his abdomen.

“Raven...” he choked. “Nightstar, please, let me-“

“I cannot.” Raven said, her voice was stony, but with a burning anger to it; brimstone. And yet there was the faintest hint of pure misery on the very edge of her tone. “I wish I could, but I cannot.”

“I can help-“ he pleaded. “I can fix it, I-“

“No, _I_ will be fixing it. As usual.” Raven snapped. “In fact I will be fixing all the mistakes that I’ve made.”

Spider registered being thrown again, but there was no sky this time. In fact the light had receded very quickly, before he was enveloped in darkness. He landed harshly again, the ground very cold and damp; she’d tossed him into a deep pit. He turned his gaze upward to see Raven, looking down to where he lay- until her face became rapidly covered by plates, slowly drowning out his limited light.

“No, Nightstar-“ he cried.

The plates far above clicked shut.

—

Time passed, as it always did.

The first few days Spider spent in shock, pacing around his new cage, testing its give. There was none. But there had to be, he reasoned, because it was Raven and he loved her. And she loved him back. They’d had plenty of disagreements over the millennia they spent in each other’s company, but they’d always found a way to make up afterward. This was temporary, it had to be.

The next few he used to try much harder to get out. He thrashed furiously against the plates, attempted making a tunnel in the wall, tried to teleport out, tried to call his Shadows to release him from the other side of the cage. Begged Raven to forgive him. Nothing worked.

The next few, anger began to boil. He could hear Bartelby outside, humming something soft and deep, and with it he felt fractured lands bind back together. But only to a point. There was still a disconnect Spider considered irreparable; they’d pieced together the world fragments into slightly larger pieces, but had not actually fixed the problem. It was too orderly, too bright, and would never support life where a whirl of chaos was required. He seethed; if she’d listened to him instead of throwing him in a pit, maybe they wouldn’t have run into this problem. On a brighter note, she had to let him out. She needed his help. And of course he’d give it, especially if it got him out of his confinement, but he remained furious with her nonetheless.

As if these heated thoughts boiling in his mind had cued it, the ceiling began to open. And as he predicted, Raven looked down on him. She was in her smaller form, which was odd. There was something, some intent in her eyes that he did not like; her gaze was too impassive.

“Do I get to come out now.” he snarled sarcastically at her.

Her expression remained unchanged.

He decided to try and climb the walls again, not that he got very far, slipping off them. He glared at Raven. “Well?” he demanded.

“Well what.” she asked flatly.

“Are you going to help me out or do I have to do that as well?”

“That’s assuming you’re going somewhere.” Raven’s voice was chilling, carrying a cruelty he’d not known her to have. “You have something I need. You will give it to me. Then maybe I could consider your release.”

Spider laughed lowly. “Can’t you ask nicely?”

She glared as a response. In a blur, Spider slipped into the shadow made by the light and traveled up and out of his cage, materializing behind her in a whirl of darkness. She pivoted sharply, intent to murder in her eyes, slamming her staff down into the ground, a burst of Myth-made stones piercing him and shattering his enchantment. He hissed, scurrying farther back, retaliating by gathering storm clouds around them and letting loose, shocking Raven violently. A strange surge of vindication as well as horror ran through his blood at the sound of her suffering. But he couldn’t stop. Though she had cried out in pain, she recovered from the blow easily, and set about breaking the clouds, scattering them to the edges of their newfound battlefield.

The air whorled around them as their spells grew more rapid, more violent. Their true forms erupted from the smaller counterpart disguises; Raven had always been bigger than he, and she loomed over high enough to make him tremble just slightly. Most times when they confronted each other he’d been able to wriggle out of it with words or deception and misdirection; very rarely had he truly had to fight her. They were an even match in everything except size, and that was the Spider’s biggest concern presently.

The lunges of her talons were hard to avoid among her flurry of spells, and the beat of her wings nearly knocked him off balance. His appendages braced, setules digging into the ground as best they could to anchor him amidst her onslaught. Then, suddenly, he seemingly decided to let go; he was blown away, body tumbling off the edge.

Raven’s eyes narrowed. She knew his tricks at this point; there was no way he’d actually fallen. She dropped her altitude, circling around the island and turning to look up at the rocks above. Sure enough, she saw him clinging to the underbelly, barely visible dark thread flying free from the side of the cliff, turning his head to glare at her. She changed her angle to strike as he summoned a maelstrom of Shadow, whistling through the charged air like a blade and hurtling towards her. She angled herself straight and propelled as best she could, using her beak to cleave it. The runes along her upper mandible glowed as she fought the current, finally reaching her target, smashing into him full force and consequently breaking the small piece of land into bits. He did his best to reorient himself midair but Raven had the advantage in that environment. She easily batted him to another stray piece of the ground, talons crashing down and curling into his abdomen shortly after his landing. They pierced his sides, drawing blue and purple smoke, flickering with red ashes; he hissed in pain.

She had him.

Pinned again, chest heaving under her talons, a silent prayer in his heart, he was at her mercy. He wondered if she had any to spare.

She couldn’t hate him enough to kill him, right? The past had to mean something, she had to know...

Oh, who was he kidding.

When she spoke her voice was a low, hollow murmur. “Now that I think on it, even if you did repent, it wouldn’t change anything.” Her talons dug in, fiery hot daggers that made him hiss in pain. Spider pushed furiously at her underbelly with six legs, grasping at her claws with his hands, trying valiantly to pry her off. She held firm, though she did move away slightly as a result of his struggles. Seeing this as a window, Spider filled the space between them with Shadow, then had it combust, almost blowing her off. Her talons held fast, yanking his body along with her as she was pushed back. With a gaze of fire and steel, she readjusted instantly, crashing down onto him.

He felt her pierce right through his chest.

Cold nail gripped his heart; he choked, wheezing, going limp, gaze far away. His mind was a fog, his body burned and his heart was

ripped out.

His vision went white, his head rang, and he only felt the tear of flesh that went along with his heart, and the suction of his body attempting to keep it inside, turning it into a long, drawn out pull; he did not register the storm, the wind, the cold air, the hard ground. He could see the vessels following its departure in a desperate attempt to keep it in, but to no avail; more smoke erupted from them as they snapped, withered and fell away.

He fell over, barely witnessing the sight of it pulsating in his once-love’s claws, dripping Shadow like it was blood, onto the ground where it turned into smoke.

Raven panted; he dimly heard her speak over the shrill tone in his head. “You won’t die.” she stated. And that was all.

Spider couldn’t manage a response beyond a few rattling gasps.

With that, it was a blur of being dragged on the ground like a rag doll, the weightlessness of falling, the familiar feel and smell of the cold, damp pit. He was in a haze of excruciation throughout, only able to feel the gaping hole in his chest, as if it were seared and melted by lava, still burning, still agonizing. A small ring of flame where his heart once was, smoldering, deliquescing. 

The prison gate shut, again. Time passed, again. Spider was alone, again.

—

Raven was concerned about the storm that had arisen during the conflict. The clouds he summoned didn’t really disperse, only spreading, swirling, strangely glittering with an onyx light. It was heavy, just being near it, and it pressed down on her chest as a dense weight, making it hard to breathe.

The beat she held in her talons was arrhythmic. She had to work fast, lest the storm create a barrier that would trap her as well. Crudely, she formed a ring of stone to make a place where the Heart could be contained and held, runes blazing red upon its added presence. It obediently floated in place. She then called out to the temples of light, with the chains already preconstructed, and felt them shoot through the storm, taking a fair bit to arrive given the distance of their moors, before hitting the Heart, its slow drift going rigid at their binding. With that binding the storm began to thicken, and it became even harder for Raven to stay; she disapperated the instant the work was finished, never minding the quality of it. If it was rushed, that was fine. She returned to Tree to complete their project.

Upon her return to his canopy, she was immediately greeted with a _Where is Cob?_

“The same place I left him.”

_But you have the Heart of Shadow you meant to get from him. Has he not paid recompense?_

She did not reply. Something horrified crept into his voice at her silence. _Nightstar, you didn’t-_

“It’s too late now.” she interrupted brusquely. “We have to finish the work we started.”

Tree said nothing. But he resumed the process taken up before the incident, his power eventually taking the form of a song again. Resonant and deep, the long expanses of space shivered and hummed in unison, now imbued with an energy not present before. Whorls of darkness permeated the area, intertwining with the light before disappearing into the background, now a reflection of the construct made reality. Pieces of their old universe floated close, then far, but stayed connected, never truly apart from one another as they began to drift down the thread, moving slowly in the swirl.

The new universe was at last made.

—

Spider remained in darkness, though it wasn’t the thought at the forefront of his mind. Clutching his chest, twitching in pain, he doubled over himself, wheezing. Now that the shock had worn off he was trying to soothe himself in some way, any way to make the pain ease if only a little. The hole in his chest bled fresh Shadow, invisible in the dark. He suspected the wound would never heal; at least not correctly. Especially so, because when Raven took his Heart, she took a great amount of his power away with it. Spider already felt so much weaker, if only in terms of mana, and had the sensation of being stretched thin, his own self beyond a shroud he could not reach past, not even mentally.

Then, as he slowly began to rise, nursing his injury, the walls of the prison began to hum.

He could feel the world spin back to life, could feel a thrum of energy pulse back into the land and crudely stitching it together to resemble an overhead mobile. Much of it was his energy, he noticed. The energy of his own heart, recreating the world that he’d offered to help fix.

Spider wept. He wept, and shook, and the darkness burned. He roared and sobbed in his new cell, the Shadow thrashing and writhing around him. He was so weak now that it didn’t matter; if he was unable to escape with the majority of his power, how would he escape without it? He was the god of Shadow, but he was blind without light, and even the darkness he commanded threatened to swallow him whole.

—

As the universe began to spin back into place, Raven heard screaming. Loud and terrible, hurt and angry. There was a sickening crack; the Heart lost its blue color, turning an angry mottle of black, purple and red, a lattice of fractures spread out over the surface, seeping chaotic essence in the form of angry red wisps. With it, the storm grew harsher, deeper, and enveloped the Heart until it was out of sight.

But the Creation still held, and the Heart still beat. It should have been a relief, a victory. And it was; a new universe was born and Spider would not be able to touch it. And yet Raven’s own heart twisted so hard she staggered, clutching her chest in agony.

She heard Tree’s voice, thunder in her head.

 _You said you would enlist his help._ he rumbled.

“I did.” she replied as evenly as she could. “His Heart now helps the World to live on.”

_That is not how I’d define enlisting, Nightstar._

“We needed a power source, and he had the only one that would work. It wasn’t something he’d hand over willingly.”

_You don’t know that for certain._

“Yes I do, actually.”

_Then why are you in pain, Sister?_

She froze.

 _I do not doubt that the heart is a necessary component. But you ripped it from him, even after imprisoning him without listening to his defense._ He sounded more angry than Raven had ever heard before, just barely holding back for the sake of the good things that came out of the tragedy. _That’s cruel, Nightstar. And you’re aware of that._

Raven couldn’t bring herself to say something in defense. Tree didn’t say anything else. Raven was aware that the factors stopping him from releasing Spider himself were down to his lack of mobility and the new role he played in their creation; an anchor, the center of everything, and with that came the management of energy needed to keep it in one piece. He no longer had near as much freedom.

The new world didn’t look much different than the aftermath of the destruction. More organized, perhaps. The land was still connected, whole but also not, by strings of Light and a vein of Shadow. It glowed like a river, swirling with stardust, attaching itself to the next island, then the next, and the next. What little life remained found itself near stranded in the middle of it all, separated by the storms that now swirled around them. It was beautiful but incredibly… empty.

Raven stopped at the ledge of the fractured land, looking into the now dark and glittery sky below, well aware that most of it must be debris.

“I had to do it,” she chanted. “I had to do it, I had to, I had to, I had to, I…”

The chant grew weaker and weaker; the shock had worn off, the emergency had passed, and time now meant something to her again. Her voice stopped short and tears welled in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to.” she whispered, horrified. “But I had to. I…”

Who cared that he had started it. She had finished it, and she’d done so in what was likely to be the most horrible way she could manage. But she _had_ to. There was no other way.

There wasn’t. If there was, she would have done it in a heartbeat.

There was no other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first chapter! my depiction of ‘the divorce’. there’s not a huge amount of information about it so a lot of this is speculation and exploration.  
> i set out with the intent of making this a one shot. however, the current amount of words i have written for this is at about 30k, so i decided that would be unwise to post all at once.
> 
> if yall came in here not knowing what ‘the divorce’ is, it’s basically when the titans destroyed the firstworld and raven threw spider in a pit for it. their relationship is so messy and i LOVE it, i slurp it up like hot noodles. so here i am writing prose about it.
> 
> i absolutely adore arc 3 but it was missing some like. meat on its bones. some character insight and events we don’t get to see bc its being told in game format. also spider is my favorite character this we are here.
> 
> how many times can i misspell bartleby and not catch it? /let’s find out!!!!/


	2. You’ve been so still/ Barely beating at all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The few millennia of separation following the creation of the Spiral, and the meeting of the children who create the very future.

Cob- Spider- eventually fell asleep.

New presences were created inside the pit, but they were as contained as he was. The Black Hole conjoined with many other fragments steeped in Shadow, others of his ilk falling into the abyss around him, and with a heavy conscience Nightstar sent them to the furthest, deepest bend of the Spiral. With any luck no one would ever find him, and she’d be able to forget.

Oh, who was she kidding. As if she could ever. She’d been foolish enough to love him, and to believe that he’d ever felt the same.

And so she cut that love out of herself.

She reasoned that it was because if he ever came back, found someone to release him, or if she ever felt the temptation to undo what she’d done, she’d likely have to face him. If that love was still there, she might falter. But if she were truly honest, she just wanted to forget.

She wanted to forget how happy he’d often made her, how much he’d changed her way of thinking, the things he’d said, done, created. Destroyed.

She knew she never could, not after so long and so much, but this way her feelings would be far easier to ignore.

Her love took the shape of an infant human girl, pale and pudgy and wrinkly. For all intents and purposes, Raven should have tried to destroy her, rid herself of the feelings she couldn’t trust forever. But she just couldn’t. Personal feelings aside, this was a new person entirely, and did not deserve such a cruel fate so soon. So Raven took her away, far away, to the farthest world she could reach, giving the child away to a person she knew would follow her request and keep the child safe. If said person didn’t eat the child first. Raven had utmost faith in her.

The child’s caretaker was allowed to name her new charge, and after Raven left, her…  _ daughter _ was named ‘Mellori’. It echoed through the chambers of her heart like a single choir singer in an empty cathedral.

Long, long years passed. Raven learned to live without it- her. She had a whole universe to attend to after all, now starting to fill in with all kinds of life and culture. She made a nest amongst those like her- but also a position where she could monitor any possible apocalyptic occurrence in the form of one of her sons- in the chilly woodlands of Wintertusk. The Norns did not find her by her bidding, but they stayed beside her anyway.

Her brother did just fine for himself, for the most part. There was a matter of the race called ‘treeminders’ going to war with the armies of Dragonspyre, but it was a passing thing, their memories soon buried deep beneath the earth and locked away from living memory forever. Perhaps people in the future might discover it, but it would just be ancient history by then. Bartleby was so hard to read sometimes, especially after his limited contact after the new universe was made. But the war had affected him negatively, obviously, and it wasn’t until a strange traveler from Avalon arrived and found him that the shame and sadness of the war began to ebb away. Ambrose, he called himself, a wizard who proclaimed he sought the secret to all magic in the Spiral, for he wished to teach it to future generations of wizards and their like. Bartleby agreed to this, but surprisingly he cautioned against the use of Shadow magic, forbade it even. He claimed Raven detested the practice and would never allow its use. Ambrose accepted, not being very familiar with the magic of Shadow to begin with, and this agreement formed the foundation of the school called ‘Ravenwood’. Raven watched over it for generations, as great students and teachers, of all races and worlds, came and left the school, each one bringing something along with them as they did. New advancements, new runes, new creatures; the possibilities ahead seemed limitless. There was a part of Raven the cringed upon seeing the magic her children had used being practiced by mortals. But it was so much weaker in their hands on the whole, so she kept the doubts to herself and raised no objection. Not that she really had a place to.

The Spiral spun on, and it was overall peaceful for millennia after. The worlds developed, deteriorated, changed within their own flow of time. There were many times where the Titans woke up, and some instances required her intervention. Celestia and Dragonspyre were worlds forever changed by their magic, and Raven truly did not want Grizzleheim to follow their example, so she could only intervene from afar. She did what she could. And it worked out, as the Titans always ended up subdued again, much to her relief and pride. Her creation was strong and steadfast; it would persevere for a very, very long time.

He woke up sometimes, though.

It always sent a shiver down her spine; the Chaos Heart would pulse erratically for just a moment, and would beat faster for the period of time he was conscious. She learned to ignore it with time; she didn’t expect him to sleep the entirety of his imprisonment away in the first place. He was contained and that was reassurance enough. But there was a juncture in which he began to wake more and more frequently. It made Raven wonder if, perhaps, there was something was happening that she was unaware of.

—

Spider flitted in and out of consciousness.

Whenever he woke up, it was always the same. A never ending pit of darkness so thick he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. He’d pace around the very limited space he had, give some thought as to how to get out of his prison, peer into the outside world briefly through the eyes of other spiders, then drift back into slumber.

The universe Raven and Tree had created had been titled ‘the Spiral’. He hazarded a guess that the title referred to its shape or overall construction. He could see so many different environments: vast forests, wastelands, oceans, yet they were all disconnected from one another, leaving no room for any sort of mixture. Which he missed, were he honest. Another quality to detest about this new universe, even if it was one of the more petty grievances.

But, the fact remained that there was at least one thing that forsaken mess held that he still desired (besides one of his own organs): freedom. There wasn’t anything else to do in this hellhole, besides talk to his nightmares, maybe. They were all he had down in the deep darkness, the only thing resembling any light or life. Perhaps it was some sort of plunge into insanity on his part, but it was so dreadfully boring down here, if nothing else, and Spider could only stomach looking at the outside world for so long. His nightmares became far more amiable over time, no longer making him writhe in his sleep as they had before, but simply talking. He could imagine features on their faces, voices from their mouths. He’d wake to speak to them after a time of communicating with them whilst asleep, highly aware he might just be losing his mind, but once a dream came to speak with him as well, they took shape; three people, a Rat, a Scorpion, and a Bat, all with different abilities, personalities, interests, and the like. Though they were formless, he saw them the way they would be made manifest, and they stayed with him, small billows of Shadow made smoke that whispered into his ear, sending the slightest of vibrations that felt like an earthquake through the all too still air, and provided what little comfort and reassurance they could in the dark. They’d taken to considering him their father, and though he tried to constantly remind himself they were naught but the products of nightmares, Cob eventually gave in to the familial affection he’d grown to harbor. On one hand, having company was a great privilege given his situation. On the other, they were as trapped as he was. Though mostly formless beyond Spider’s own cognition, their intangibility did not allow them to leave the prison, so they whirled about within the confines. Scorpion would complain about how cramped it was, Rat would try to work out the logistics of the prison structure, and Bat would ask questions about the outside world. Spider could only answer so many of them, as he could only peer into the minds of spiders to survey the worlds, and the further they were from Khrysalis, the less he could discern. But he tried his best, to satiate his youngest’s curiosity.

They’d all been born with the knowledge of what had led to the circumstances of Spider’s imprisonment, and responded to it very differently when it was even brought up; Rat would pitch various schemes and schematics to try and retrieve the Heart from its cage, Scorpion made a solemn vow of vengeance to destroy anyone who got in the way of a future attempt, and Bat… got quiet. Very quiet.

It occurred to him that not all of them were made from nightmares; he remembered the one dream that he had. Spider could not tell if this bode ill or not.

Perhaps he could stand to find out.

All Primordial Divine figures had some degree of prophetic vision, or scarily accurate foresight, at least. Spider could only see so much of the future, not near enough to match someone such as Bartleby, who, upon further reflection, was hardly perturbed by the Titan’s quarrel. But Spider could see enough.

And what would a prophetic vision be without a ritual to assist the process, or a record of its telling? Along the floor of the pit, he carved out a swirl with his staff. The prophecy flowed like clear water over his mind, vague images and words flickering across his vision. The words slipped like sand from his fangs, spilling out into the air where the echo billowed like hot steam.

“The Candle flickers across the Night.” he intoned. “A Child sailing the Shadow Sea. The Spiral bends, and twists, and whirls, bringing the Chosen back to me.”

He could see them now; a small light glowing faintly in the darkness. It was so incredibly small, yet it refused to yield to any force attempting to put it out. Bartleby had once said that one day he may take in a child of his own. Spider wondered what kind of person he would have chosen.

The dirt moved of its own accord, cracking out, spreading around the spiral he made in a lattice. It’s lifeblood;  _ his  _ lifeblood.

“The Mirror will break…the Horn will call.” he told it. “From the Shadows I strike, and the skies…will fall.”

The picture glowed briefly, energy gathering into several small, multi colored orbs before disappearing; he knew not where they would end up. He didn’t really care. If anyone else heard his prophecy, that was fine. It was an inevitability, set in motion by fate, and there would be no changing the outcome, no matter the interpretation of its contents.

“The Shadow Web hums and stretches beyond the stars,” he finished, settling down to sleep once more, a satisfied smile on his face. The lattice he’d drawn pulsed with the Shadow he sent rolling through it, crafting a hammock of haze upon which to rest for a time. “touching all the Spiral with Spider’s welcoming arms.”

—

It was quite a while before she met the children who would change everything. Face to face, at least.

They were children marked by her brother, though with his eye missing he probably didn’t remember what that would mean. Still, it was a significant thing, and it was reason enough for Raven to watch over them from the time they’d enrolled in the school Bartelby’s friend had built. The Theurgist- Heather- was of particular interest to her as she was a druid, descended from those who once lived in the Ravenwood, and followed the Light as strictly as she could, never letting herself go astray. It was something Raven envied if she was honest, but she’d never hold it against her. All her friends were important as well; honest and hardworking kids who’d surmounted impossible odds and done incredible things no other wizard could ever claim. So it was rather embarrassing when they found her trapped in a cage made by the ravens of the Coven. Perhaps even more so when they had to rescue her from it.

But she’d taken her true form before them, looked upon them properly. Seven of them, Bartleby had chosen, one from each of the Ravenwood schools. There was Heather, gentle and graceful but with air of refreshing vindictive air about her as she fought. Gabriel, a Necromancer and a gentle soul responsible for the recent defeat of Malistare; Raven had nothing but praise for him. Ronan, a Conjurer who’d spent so long alone, but was learning to love again, and to learn. Kestrel, a Diviner with a brilliant mind and boundless energy. Esmee, Ronan’s long lost sister, steadfast and cheerful and a Thaumaturge near as sturdy as the Giants themselves. Arlen, a Pyromancer who’d become dragonrider proper, even though he was only recently trained in any magical arts. And then, Sestiva. The leader figure of the group and a Sorcerer; she carried the desert sky in her eyes. Raven already felt a tinge of Shadow within her heart, and had trouble deciding if she should be concerned or not. But she was a resolute child, stern but kind, so the goddess deemed her safe.

They rectified the situation with the Coven and her son with utmost speed and efficiency; it was hard to be any prouder.

“You are all Grizzleheim’s greatest allies, and true friends.” she told them proudly. She slowly, gently leaned down to press the tip of her beak to Heather’s forehead where it glowed. Her blessing flowed among the seven; she physically felt their hearts grow light. “And I will watch over you all… always.”

They left, making tracks from the snow leading away from her tree, and she couldn’t help staring at the footprints until fresh snowfall covered them up.

_...Mellori would be about their age by now.  _ she thought.

—

Spider saw a shape in the dark.

His view of the world outside was very limited, only able to watch through the eyes of other spiders. Most served under him, in a sense, so he didn’t even have to take direct control to get what he needed during the projection. He was able to gather that an entire nation had formed around his prison, one called ‘Khrysalis’. It consisted of Arachna like himself -which was why surveying the world in detail was rather easy- Mantises, Moths, Centipedes, Bees, various deep sea monsters that resembled the races aforementioned, and an odd one out sort of race known as Deer Mice. It was actually a beautiful world, unless you were looking at more barren places such as Tyrian Gorge, but the ambers of the mantis’s architecture, the lush greenery of the deer mice woods, the calm of the sea surrounding the glowing structure made purely of star magic, it made him long for release more than ever. If there was one world in the Spiral he’d want to preserve, it’d be this one.

So when he saw the shape in the dark, a light for him to reach out to, he thought he saw his chance. Though he could not see the future directly, he knew a foreign, powerful magic would be the one to ultimately find and free him. And maybe they just needed a nudge, which he was all too willing to provide.

But when he actually reached out, he only found disappointment. Just a self interested waste of talent, not unlikely to backstab him should he suggest an alliance. A young girl determined to learn all kinds of magic, but unable to grasp her own need to change in order to do so. Though he did appreciate her tendency to shake things up, or something along those lines. The Magi believed her to be the one of prophecy, and so they took her and the wharf rat she arrived with away. They twisted her, corrupted her, changed her. She didn’t touch Shadow; she swallowed it. Or was swallowed by it. Either way, for a being of light it was too much, and all potential she had was destroyed, along with the various parts of Khrysalis Spider had been somewhat endeared toward. The calm sea became a roiling tempest with its temple obliterated by starfall, the forest burned with heat so intense the very air became dry and the harsh winds eroded stone into sand, and the mantis cities were taken under a new leadership that ruled using fear and violence as their written law.

_ More time. _ he thought. _ It’s just a matter of more time. _

—

Sestiva was told to go to Khrysalis to deal with Morganthe.

Raven fretted for her well being. That worry doubled when three of her compatriots went with her. Many had asked her for so much in the past, there was no denying, but that was also with the reassurance that someone could intervene and save the children. This wasn’t an option at this time; the children were sent alone. It wasn’t the first time it’d happened; Cyrus knew very well not to reveal himself in Dragonspyre so as to not tip Malistaire into violent unpredictability, but this was different. Ambrose and his council were unable to even get close to Khrysalis, by way of Morganthe shoving them out with wards only broken from the inside. And as with Malistaire, them using the world door would alert her immediately, and they’d no idea how she’d react. They could send in others, they project their images and offer advice, but they could do little else without breaking the needed temporary secrecy. Beyond that concern, Raven would admit, their travels into Khrysalis troubled her for an entirely different reason.

Were they to venture close enough to where He was... Were the Magi aware of His presence, and thought they could utilize it... If they were to touch Shadow directly...

No. Raven shook her head. They were steadfast, and His prison had remained undisturbed since she’d removed his Heart. They had no reason to get anywhere near his prison anyway. It would be fine.

It would be fine.

—

A figure again. One who also touched Shadow.

But only touched.

Spider could see their soft light through the eyes of many spiders. First, through Atlach-Leng, whom they’d dueled and won, without the use of the Shadow he commanded. Through its journey he watched them, tracked their progress, even into the Eclipse Tower, where the white light they shone was spattered with drops of black. Little spiders all throughout Rachias showed him their small triumph over the Shadow Queen, their first step. Then, the eyes of a small spider sitting on the rocky wall of a cave sitting by the shoreline of the Starfall Sea. They spoke with what appeared to be a mantis hunter before slipping inside a fairly deep recess in the cavern.

Their magic was strong enough, he could feel the magic of Bartelby radiating from them, and they hadn’t been consumed by the Shadow they no doubt wielded. There was no cruelty, not enough selfishness to be discouraging, and a keen urge to obtain all knowledge, but also a caution when it came to the means. Even if they weren’t the one in his prophecy, he figured they were as good as it was going to get. He followed, only to find them confronting the wharf rat who’d been with the not-yet-crowned Shadow Queen when she was first taken by the Magi.

Spider got an idea. It wouldn’t take much. Just a few ideas put into his head, a few whispers of influence, a gentle tug in the direction he wished them to go. If he went for the young Wizard, someone would have to notice something was wrong, being so well acquainted with a world they’d never visited prior, so he’d have to do this through someone else.

He asked the spider he saw through to quickly crawl up to the former captain and bite him. She did her best, managing to crawl up onto the ceiling and lowering herself so she dangled above the nape of his neck. She landed gracefully and did as he requested, allowing his will to be projected into the rat. This, unfortunately, led to Coleridge swatting the back of his neck on reflex. The little spider didn’t die, but Cob thanked her for her help and urged her to hide as she scurried away with a limp. The less signs pointing toward his involvement, the better. He could not see as well as he could through the eyes of the spider but it would have to do. Vague shapes would do fine for the immediate future; he had to focus on getting the Wizard into the Hive. They were ultimately headed there anyway, so it wouldn’t be a particularly hard task.

Dare he say it, he was sort of excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> throws my ocs directly into your face
> 
> i debated making the wizard a sort of very general entity in this, as they are in the game, but i decided that i wanted even more self indulgent drama goddamn it, so you get my kiddos and snippets of their stories thrown into the mix. for /flavor/. gotta throw some pecans for bite in this metaphorical fruit salad.


	3. And every day, I add another stone/To the walls I built around you/To keep you safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The children set things into motion.

There was an old tale that Sestiva was reminded of, upon reaching the deftly named ‘Black Hole’. A tale of a sinner and a spider’s web. With one good deed to his name, he’d been offered a ladder out of Hell and into Paradise. But an act of selfishness upon his climb had caused the thread to break and he’d been cast back down into the pit where he lay imprisoned. It’d been called a Pool of Blood, containing naught but the most horrible demons and twisted criminals; a place of agony and punishment.

Looking at the long, glowing thread of energy that was swallowed by the pit she shuddered, questioning- not for the first time- if this would really be worth it in the long term. Her sabertooth growled at her side, ears pinned. Her friends shifted uncomfortably next to her, likely getting the same chills that made her hairs stand on end, the same nausea just looking into the black depths their calls still reverberated down.

Coleridge shuffled near the spider they’d summoned, gesturing at the ladder of thread she’d make for them. “Well? Time’s a-wasting!” he called. “To the depths we must go, or may Heaven’s Mother send us grace!”

“Says the guy who’s planning to stay up here.” Esmee grumbled, looking like she had half a mind to clock him in the snout.

“Nothing for it.” Arlen tried to encourage, faltering. “We said we’d commit, and it’s probably too late to find any other options. We might have to focus on the short term.”

He was right, of course. Sestiva let out a huff, bangs blowing out of her face. “Alright.” she gestured to the large cat curling around her legs, hackles still raised. “Maya, you stay here to keep an eye on Coleridge.”

Maya’s dutiful mewl followed them as the four wizards climbed down the far too light ladder, blowing with the natural change in air pressure; the children all saw their breath escape like smoke, felt their fingers go numb as they descended, and they still had a ways yet to go. Though the stone was grey and the structure a dark, deep purple, the darkness took on a faint red hue- like old, dried up blood.

Coleridge’s voice bounded off the walls of the prison, so far away yet right next to their ears, whispering. Coaxing. Leading. Down, to places deeper, places darker.

  
  
  


“I looked upon the rotting sea, 

And drew my eyes away; 

I looked upon the rotting deck, 

And there the dead men lay.

  
  
I looked to heaven, and tried to pray; 

But or ever a prayer had gusht, 

A wicked whisper came, and made 

My heart as dry as dust.”

—

He awoke to the sound of light footsteps.

Spider had often heard and felt the heavy footfalls of the beetles that guarded the place, no doubt placed there by the Magi that were aware of his existence, and they were the only indication that something existed outside his dark well. They walked ceaselessly up and down the spiraling pathway that led to the bottom where he lay. On occasion, other things had come down here, but never this far. Mostly commonly were the Arachna Magi, who were too skittish to go further than the second landing. The Shadow Queen had visited once or twice, the slithering of her ragged train upon the ground unmistakable. But the new sounds were not small patterings of a burrower, nor the clacking of a mantis or centipede, and he heard no buzzing of wings. They bore none of the false poise the Magi carried themselves with, nor did their regal finery drag along behind them.

They were likely human. He shivered.

Yes, it felt distinct now; more so than the noise they made, he felt them through the ground, through the strings of Shadow that permeated the Spiral’s very being. Four of them there were, young too, with the sounds of armor that jangled, the faint slosh of potions inside flasks, and leather soles of sturdy combat suited boots. Wizards, they had to be. He didn’t project himself onto the many, many spiders crawling all over the walls; it was important they know as little as possible until he was freed. Even while Coleridge was under his influence, he’d said a touch too much. Until the time came, he had to be delicate with this endeavor.

He couldn’t allow it to be ruined. Not after so long, after so much watching. _Waiting_.

He lay absolutely still and waited for them to walk down. In some ways, like how he and those of his likeness hunted their prey.

There was the harsh clang of blades, scuffs of greaves on weathered stone, a Verse, a Chant, an Incantation, then something that was… not quite any of those things. The hum of magic, and the thud of bodies, trembling through the ground. There were warnings and admonishments, then quiet. A single, soft voice was near inaudible from within the prison, yet somehow its tone rang clear within the walls. Spider had to wonder, had the one he’d seen through the spider a week ago be here at last? It had to be, he couldn’t imagine anyone else who could possibly make it so far, but he doubted himself anyway. So much time, so much watching but never seeing, never touching; so much prophesying with only the vaguest idea of how such a future could come true, and now it was finally here.

As his thoughts raced on, the plates above began to open.

He stared in disbelief, shocked by the way they opened up like a flower, before the thread hoisted him up and out of his cage. The weightlessness was familiar to the sensation of when he was tossed down, sending a shudder down his carapace, but it was slower, and moving upward. Out of the cold, damp, cramped, pitch black confinement.

There was light, plenty of it out here, enough to warrant a squint from all eight eyes. Sure the atmosphere was dark, the only light being from the thread that dangled into his confinement and the dulled lanterns that dotted the structure, but he was able to look at his hands for the first time in centuries- likely longer. The claws had been ripped out from his attempts to dig out of prison and with his power weakened as it was they never grew back, but that didn’t matter so much anymore. The air was still stuffy but a marked improvement nonetheless; he gulped in massive lungfuls of it as he breached. The sounds, though there were few, bounced about in his skull, nearly rattling it. He was hoisted high, high above his prison, allowing him a view of his surroundings. A great spiral of rock, a pit leading down to an even deeper pit, laden with the presence of Arachna and of the Shadow. Ornamented, but in a cruel fashion, as Arachna architecture tended to do, from what he could see during captivity.

But most notably was the human that stood by the edge of the stairs, looking at him cautiously. Immediately he knew this was the person Bartleby had mentioned waiting for so long ago; the one who’d come to free him. The one he’d seen in the cave by the sea.

Spider rolled his shoulders, popping them and working a knot out before being dropped abruptly upon a conjured platform just above the pit. He allowed himself a moment to collect himself, survey the circumstances and process his current influx of freedom, before teleporting the short distance to the ground, a ways away from the entrance to his prison, just a few feet in front of the child.

It was a girl, carrying a much newer magic than he was acquainted with, with long sun bleached hair, tan robes, and sharp turquoise eyes. She was very plain and not quite what he expected; something about that was relieving, and almost endearing in a way. She had a wand that resembled a crystalline dagger clutched tight in her hand, yet her caution didn’t seem to stem from recognition.

She spoke. “Uh... who are-“

Her voice, though brief her attempted question was, bounced off the stone more harshly than she likely realized, and it made Spider’s skull buzz painfully. He held up a hand.

“A moment.” he told her quietly, voice deep and hoarse from lack of use. “The light is hard on these poor eyes. The sounds, too loud. The smell...”

He took a deep breath in, then exhaled, slow and loud, more to himself than her at that point.

“I have not tasted fresh air in a long, long time.” he murmured.

With that, he sat down, slow and stiff, rolling and popping his joints, testing his senses. He stretched his other six limbs just far enough to peek out from under his robe. To stretch out properly without the ever constant presence of walls would now be a luxury in his opinion. No more cramps or aches or stiffness that he couldn’t prevent. Sweet, sweet freedom. The stranger stayed silent the whole time.

After many long moments, she finally broke it, her voice consciously quieter than when she’d spoken before. A considerate child, he noted.

“I, um-“ she started awkwardly. “I had been told that there was a weapon down here. And when I heard the word ‘weapon’ I envisioned something that was... uh, not a person.” she frowned, but the grip on her stave lightened. “So I kinda have to ask... who are you?”

So she had no idea who he was. The idea brought him some comfort; she would not recoil and attempt to throw him back into his prison anytime soon. But he had to wonder how long that would last, how long he could get away with his new found freedom, given that she had Raven and Tree morals written all over her. He decided he should try to draw it out as long as he could; gain her trust, assess her character, and help her with whatever she required a ‘weapon’ for. Even though he already had a good idea of what that was.

“I am Old Cob,” he gave her his true name; both a precaution and a mote of trust in the same. “And I owe you a tremendous debt.”

—

Raven froze.

A dark stirring, just the faintest echo of an old call, sounded from the darkest edge of the Spiral. An old heartache, one she’d rid herself of years and years ago, back to haunt her. She could hear his voice even though he wasn’t speaking.

Dread creeped into the sizable hole carved from her heart; she’d gotten complacent, hadn’t she?

But how had he managed to escape? She knew not the actual state of Khrysalis, but at the very least she knew that the residents never touched the prison she was sure they unearthed at some juncture. She found it hard to believe he’d managed to escape by himself either, if he was incapable of doing so before she weakened him, so just how in all the worlds-

The Shadow Queen. The children. Her brother’s children.

In a panic, she projected onto the children- if they were continuing their foray into Khrysalis, they’d not have to deal with just Morganthe anymore; they could be in graver danger than anyone knew. They’d been touched by the Shadow themselves, but she still cared for them, still knew that in the end their Light would always shine through- that was the kind of kids they were. For all she knew, it could have been Morganthe herself that set him free. It didn’t seem right though, since she’d clearly known of his presence for some time, what with her palace so close by. Perhaps it was one more act of reckless arrogance to crown her ultimate victory over the tyranny that plagued her life. Raven wasn’t familiar with her mindset but with her mind in a flurry of panic it was the most plausible and comforting explanation she could conjure up.

Though the Shadow was thick, she reached them in the depths of the Arachna’s Hive; she saw the wizards standing on the edge of the Black Hole, looking in. It looked vastly different from when it’d first been… used , yet she couldn’t have mistaken it for anything else. She surveyed the situation, taking a headcount. There was a crystalline spider who’d likely made the ladder into the pit, cleaning her chelicerae with her front legs- a wharf rat with a strange skeleton of a turtle like creature topping a staff he carried, holding a lantern aloft- the wizard children seemed to have recently climbed out of the hole and now followed the wharf rat’s example-

Cold fear gripped her for a moment; Sestiva was missing from the group.

Then, suddenly, she wasn’t.

Sestiva’s head rose steadily out of the darkness, clambered out of the pit, said something admonishing to the wharf rat the group was accompanied by, and then turned to-

To grab Spider by the hand and assist him with climbing out of the hole.

He looked different. He wore his old robes and still had the same staff, but he hunched, his robes were tattered at the hems, and he put more weight on his staff than he ever used to. She could just hear the dark rumble of his voice, calm, as if nothing happened prior. He treated them politely, did not threaten them in any way. It was not what Raven expected, yet it worried her all the same.

For one thing, there was the subject of their level of awareness concerning his true nature. Were they aware of how dangerous he was even before releasing him, then that was a very big problem. For another, if he wasn’t attacking them now, who’s to say he wouldn’t later? He had to be scheming something or another, this was Spider they were talking about. She knew him like the back of her wing, even after all this time.

And lastly, Spider was freed. He was released and able to do as he pleased and there would be no stopping him once he decided to move things along.

She had the strongest urge to fly to Khrysalis at once and intervene, but something stopped her. Something inside her was hesitant about the idea of confrontation. So she stayed where she was, being sure to keep a careful eye on them. Raven reasoned to herself that it was on account of Morganthe being a very present threat that had to be dealt with delicately, along with the thick miasma of Shadow that swirled through the world, a barrier thick enough that it was hard to project and see through- and even managed to convince herself of it after repeating it a few times.

But it was only ever part of the reason.

—

The Wizard introduced herself as Sestiva Sandwraith. One of the first few things that Cob learned about her was that she was a rather stern individual, but despite that was unfailingly kind. A protector to all, he thought. When he’d expressed some sensory overload after being deprived for so long, she’d immediately lowered her voice to a low murmur, and when he asked for her help ascending out of the pit, she lended her assistance without hesitation. She berated Coleridge for having her believe Cob to be an object rather than a person, which struck Cob as a strange concern, considering she would have more likely hesitated if she had known a person was imprisoned there. Or, he thought, perhaps she wouldn’t have. Even the forces seeking to kill her throughout the foray into the Hive, ones wanting to rend her head from her shoulders, deliver her corpse to the feet of the Shadow Queen, were dealt far more mercy than they deserved, in Cob’s personal opinion; always sent packing with bruised faces and pride, but never any injuries that would stay with them.

The second thing he learned was the nature of her magic; a blatant conglomerate that took attributes from every primary school and morphed it into something new, something different, something greater than the sum of its parts. When he asked about it, she said it was called Sorcery, or Balance magic. Cob openly admitted he’d never seen Balance magic before and was fascinated with… anything new, really. It was a young school, created in Krokotopia by her teacher, whom she spoke very highly of.

She introduced her teammates, a party of three: a Diviner named Kestrel, a Pyromancer named Arlen, and a Thaumaturge named Esmee. The Diviner, with her knack for innovation and invention, reminded him strongly- fondly- of his youngest. Though she far outmatched him in enthusiasm and energy. The group were in Khrysalis with purpose; seeking to stop the woman hailing herself as the “Shadow Queen”. Protectors and preservers of the Spiral, which left a bad taste in his mouth, but he’d rather it stay the same than risk any changes; the changes the “Shadow Queen” wanted to make would likely make a huge detriment to the schematics he was already starting to draft in his head. And after this little fuss was over, there would be no stopping him from going about his own business. So he agreed to help them as a way to repay his debt.

They’d seen so much of the Spiral despite living for so few years that it fascinated him. Sure, he had no love for worlds besides perhaps Khrysalis, but he couldn’t stop his hunger for information. It made him long to see it for himself, with his own eyes. See what his suffering had earned the universe in his absence. And then, while talking with the Sorcerer, they reached the topic of Azteca. At the time of the FirstWorld, they’d been a budding civilization, still in their infancy. Cob was indifferent to their existence for the most part, but they were familiar to him at least. How long had it been since his imprisonment? How long had they managed to survive? Before the World was broken, they’d been starting out strong, proud and ingenuous in their civilization’s design.

It certainly wasn’t the case anymore.

Sestiva confided in him that she had it out for Morganthe on account of her hand in destroying- decimating- the world the Aztecans inhabited. Coleridge, only partially under Cob’s control, had told her there was a powerful weapon they could use to their advantage. The girl was so young, so clearly fueled by anger, by guilt, and a skewed perception of justice. Old Cob found himself admiring this attitude; he felt he could relate to it.

“You’d use a... ‘weapon’ sealed away and feared by even the cruelest of the Magi?” he asked after she said her piece, just to hear how she would answer.

Sestiva’s face grew dark, grave. Anguished. “I can’t go back to Azteca anymore.” she said lowly. “After Xibalba... I tried the key and the door stayed locked. I wasn’t fast enough to stop her then, and now...” Her fingers dug into the dirt, clenching into fists. “And now she plans to do it again. For no other reason but her own gain.” She turned to look him in the eye; there was a fire in those sharp eyes, fierce and roaring. Out of hatred, perhaps, or vindictiveness. “I have to do whatever it will take to keep me from repeating my mistakes.”

They were a new race at the time the Firstworld had been shattered, and it was strange to think they were now considered to be the oldest living race in the Spiral, for what that was worth. And now they were gone; some survived by fleeing their home, but not enough to save their legacy, he didn’t think. The last traces of the FirstWorld, with their vibrant colors and elaborate architectures, their immense knowledge of both the sciences and magic; their entire culture was now gone forever. An inevitability given the flow of change, he supposed, but he would not mock her grief.

Cob regarded her statement. “You think it happened because of some mistake you made?”

Sestiva blinked. “Well, yeah. I- I just said that.”

“What about your teammates? Would you say they did something that allowed it to happen?”

“What- No-“

“So, then, would you say the Deermice made a mistake that allowed the Shadow Queen to burn the Khonda desert, or destroy Alcazar and turn Starfall sea to a perpetual tempest?”

Sestiva looked almost offended. “Of course not. That’s not the same as-“

“It’s similar.” he interjected. “Blaming yourself for things beyond your control is detrimental to your cause at best. You must remember that I want to see her brought down as much as you. And so must your teammates. Don’t put it all on your shoulders alone.” She would lag behind if she dwelled on it like this, and he couldn’t have that.

Sestiva stared at the floor, frowning, looking lost.

“They truly are gone, then…” he mused aloud, not directing it at her. “And I missed all of it.”

He turned to see Sestiva’s confused frown, and decided he didn’t really have to lie to her. “I was imprisoned just after the Firstworld shattered. The Aztecans were a young, but fairly established civilization at that time. Full of promise, new ideas, new ways to change the most common of things. I wonder if they managed to fulfill that potential in all the time I could not see them.”

Sestiva regarded the thought quietly, looking somewhat comforted. Not a lot, but it was an improvement. “I can’t say for sure but… I think so.”

“We shouldn’t reflect too much,” he said abruptly, rising to his feet. “as they are in need of vengeance, I would assume. And it might be good to save even a fraction of their legacy.”

Sestiva nodded firmly, rising as he spoke, drawing her wand and her deck of cards. “Lead the way?”

And so he did, gathering the small party and escorting them ever deeper, deeper into the depths of the Hive.

Perhaps it was to their demise, but what could really be done to prevent that? Besides, if his prophecy was correct, and it usually was, they’d come out simply scathed.

Old Cob watched and guided them right up to the Shadow Palace, past the Dark Tree, through the wasted galleries and into the Queen’s chambers. He could only hear the sounds of the fight through the door looming behind him, could feel their magic pulse through the earth on which he stood.

He could feel the Shadow Queen gathering Shadow, massing it in one place; he was relieved to have ultimately made the right call in staying behind. And yet, there was some mote of concern he held regarding the Shadow Queen’s fate; were she to win the battle, he’d only be able to do so much to preserve himself. And it wasn’t as if he wished death upon the people who’d released him either. He took the risk of peering through the eyes of one of her little servants and saw her, casting before the group of wizards, looking well worse for wear and drained. Even with her lack of control, with that amount of energy not one of the wizards could hope to make it out unscathed. With their current lack of ability, he rapidly searched for a way to intervene; he couldn’t help but notice she was standing on a plane of glass, already slightly cracking under the weight and sheer force of it all.

Spider narrowed his eyes. “Just a little more weight should suffice.” he murmured, tapping his staff.

The effect was instant; he immediately saw her struggle with the sudden surge, shifting her body in an attempt to catch all of it in her grasp, panicked from the influx. She didn’t even notice the glass beneath her feet beginning to give.

Spider cut the connection with her servant just as it shattered, sight returning to himself as he looked to the door. Her scream was audible from beyond the supposed throne room, though it was quickly swallowed by the heavy, quiet air.

“The sky falls… taking her with it.” he rumbled to himself quietly. “Her song comes to an end. And all that is left… is silence.”

She could have truly been something special, wonderful even. It was quite disappointing.

—

Of all the strange things he’d done, this had to be the strangest. Raven was absolutely certain that when He was released, he would unleash catastrophe in an instant, destroying the Spiral for hatred of the light and order she’d made it to represent and remaking it in his own image. At first, she thought he’d been scheming, biding his time and looking for the right opportunity to strike. But before she knew it, the children had successfully defeated Morganthe with his explicit assistance.

It made no sense; why would he prevent the destruction he so clearly desired, perhaps even craved? What could the motive behind it be?

Did he forget what he’d done? Did he forget her ?

Or perhaps it was something even more frightening. Something like remorse. Perhaps his time in prison had made him capable of such a thing. It wasn’t something Raven could really bring herself to believe; some might call her jaded, but they hadn’t seen a world fall apart due to their counterpart’s whims.

The wizards departed to return the Shadow magic to the land it belonged to, and she watched as he returned to the Bastion. He did pretty much nothing, just stared into the water, leaning on his staff. Pensive, for the first time in a long while since Raven had last seen him. The last time he’d been like this was right before…

The FirstWorld broke. He was absolutely up to something.

The rest of the events were a haze as her mind raced with possibility after possibility, but she did register the wizards’ eventual return to Bastion, restoring the magic to a statue and reconvening with their Khrysalian allies. Sestiva privately separated from the group to join Spider by the waterfalls, walking up to him so calmly, so casually. They talked briefly, so quietly and gently that Raven had the slightest pang of self doubt. He spoke of how he was glad to see Khrysalis restored, which was so… unlike him.

Then he proceeded to be dramatic, which was much more in line with what she expected from him.

Raven watched as he evaporated into wisps of Shadow, to travel alongside his children and ‘see the Spiral’, as he put it, likely to scrutinize it and map out its potential weak points. She watched as Sestiva looked dumbfounded at his departure, likely unaware that she’d just been betrayed. But she’d learn soon enough. She watched the other wizards catch up, question, and learn the basic gist of what had happened.

The goddess clicked her tongue, not fully willing to blame the children but she knew that this would happen. If only she could have stopped them. If only they had heeded the very blatant warning signs all around them, leading up to their discovery of his prison. There was nothing that could be done about it now. Now it was a matter of determining what would be best moving forward.

No doubt he resented her work and wanted to see it destroyed. Why else would he take himself on such a journey to find its fatal flaws? Would he attempt to get into Empyrea? That would be a gargantuan effort even if he was at full strength. Though an attempt seemed likely, not only getting there but destroying the Paradox chains would require an amount of power he simply didn’t have. He could go after one of their children- the Titans- as Malistare had risked in his resurrection attempts, but the Titans could potentially destroy him, too, so it was more unlikely. Perhaps he would go off to see Bartleby, strike right at the epicenter, the key thread that kept everything bound. He could attempt to kill her brother, or even more frighteningly, appeal to his sympathy.

And she knew. She knew Bartelby admonished himself for not interfering in her fight with Spider. She knew that he would have freed him if he could. And she knew of the Wizards who felt so very much like him, cared so very much for him. No doubt they held the same values as their patron, so there could be no calling on them for aid anymore. She did not trust his current lack of memory to be a deterrent to her efforts presently, seeing as his Eye of Prophecy was still intact. And besides that, well… the Spiral had gone on for too long. Yet he still clung to it, like some child, even though he was the older one. He would not listen to her arguments if she ever presented them; he was always ridiculously stubborn when it came to what he valued, both a gift and a curse. They needed a fresh start, a start where Shadow would not be able to corrupt everything she ever cared for, and so…

The winds of Wintertusk were very cold, and fraught with virulent pestilence. But they could travel near anywhere if she gave them the beat of her wings. Even into the very heart of the Spiral, where her brother stayed.

It killed her to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoof. this one was, as they say, doozy.
> 
> i debated on whether or not i should keep the mc voiceless or make them their own character for the sake of the complexities that could present but ultimately i went down the road of pure self indulgence and decided to cram in my ocs and the relevant parts of their stories. i will try my best to make it so the story doesn’t feel like it’s about them.
> 
> i know raven’s thought process is... weird. i was trying to make it seem like she was jaded and exhausted and was just like ‘fek it, throw it away do it again’ like a dissatisfied artist but idk if that came across. i hope so.
> 
> the two references i made at the beginning are “The Spider’s Thread” by Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, and “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, the latter of which game!coleridge quotes often whenever the mc speaks with him.


End file.
